Achilles' Heel
by One Good Cookie
Summary: She never was invincible.


The world is grey, she said to herself quietly, as is everything in it. Its just one long infinity of blandness and the same decisions made over and over and over again…and maybe blood was that _one_ splash of red that was supposed to wake them all up and make them think about what they are fighting for and if it really is worth it but the blood that had rained down on them was colourless…ice water that had frozen in everyone's veins.

There was emotion, and there was apathy- she walked the fine line in between both.

Its supposed to end this way. _This_ fitting scene- one hero against a wall of darkness- _but where was that hero?_, he wasn't here and he never was because once Hermione Granger thought that she could appreciate the heroic in man- that there was some to begin with, and once Hermione Granger was naïve.

Defeat is inevitable and the word 'war' tastes bitter on her tongue. She had tried saying it before, pronouncing it slowly and stretching it out in the hope that she could convey all the terrible things it meant- but it was like a death cry to the others and she learnt not to mention it.

Then why did they still fight?

She couldn't pretend she understood, she never had. Harry had, and Ron might have and Lupin certainly did. Hermione saw it in the weariness that was etched across their faces in lines which they were far too young to have or in the way their eyes which had once shone with hope and promises of a brighter future held a hidden weight behind them, a darkness behind the light with the knowledge that hope and optimism were just pure _foolishness. _

She might have just as well seen their souls shattering.

It is this pose, she decides, that tells people that they are truly at war. They are hunched over the breakfast table- not with the shining, heroic face of the victor or the limp, tired face of the defeated- just this, this quite martyrdom. The world is still spinning outside, and now- for this one moment it is in a standstill and she can see it all so clearly now- Harry, playing the part of a reluctant hero, a boy forced to become a man far sooner than he should have. Ron, with all his hollow laughter and his unconvincing re-assurance that everything will be alright is just one more pawn, he is going to be used and manipulated in a game far more complex than any of them could ever imagine. And herself, the careful sceptic- perhaps this was they was it was meant to be.

Did that make it better? The realization of futility- perhaps if they were behind a banner and could die for a cause- though the noble thing to do would be to live and suffer for a cause. So here they all sit in quite, unsung, _foolish_ martyrdom, silence stretching out like fragile glass waiting to be shattered.

She had sat through it, taking it all in, the cold animosity shown to her by the other houses, Ron's death (and the way they had brought him in, each refusing to show any emotion- the stone face, she calls it- when she so badly wanted to shake them all up and_scream_), the way the world outside was in chaos, she had not cried, she had never once broke down (Be brave for _Harry_) and maybe this was the true meaning of courage, maybe it wasn't all about rushing out and saving the world because Merlin knew she couldn't do that.

"Snape says Voldemort's getting stronger all the time. He expects a forceful confrontation some time in February and we don't know yet if we can avoid that." Harry murmured to her, looking anywhere but into her eyes. He turned back to the newspaper he was reading and she tried to pretend that she didn't notice how he was biting his lip so hard that it was beginning to bleed, or the fact that his emerald eyes covered with a thin, slightly wet sheen.

"Harry?" He looked at her and a part of him already knew what she was going to say but he had to hear it from her first, and another part of him was desperately hoping she wouldn't say it.

"Dumbledore's gone, Harry. Do you understand that? Dumbledore _dead_! If you just want to sit here and seek shelter in Hogwarts, _fine_! But you can't expect me to just sit back and do nothing.

'The boy who lived" she smirked, "For all the good you are doing you could be the boy-who-might-as-well-have-died"

She regretted the words, but she _meant_ them and she knew that this fact would destroy him faster than any incantation ever could.

"It is of no use, Hermione. Do you really think that I want to stay here, that I do not want to battle it out. Hermione? But Dumbledore's right! We have to be _safe_." Harry replied shortly, as he almost imperceptibly moved his elbow over the headline of the Daily Prophet so she couldn't read it.

But she glanced at the picture and the unmistakable jets of green light and she instinctively knew. "How many is it this time?"

"Thirteen." He replied wearily "three Muggles and ten order members. We've lost Emmeline and Tonks disappeared somewhere in Kent, so there is a slim chance they might still be holding her."

She nodded her head slightly. The task of counting how many the war had taken had been left to her and she had done it, meticulously in a very Hermione-like fashion, day in and day out till she had ceased to see them as people and they all just became numbers because numbers and statistics and logic were just so much _easier_ to deal with and for once in her life, Hermione wanted to take the easy path and not the right one.

"All the order members were given anonymous burials." Harry said lightly, _too lightly_, "Cemetery with grey grass, crumbling headstones, faded inscriptions…the whole works."

Hermione smiled with an equal lightness, but the merriness was almost _obscene_ on her. "And I suppose that is a good thing?"

Harry attempted a feeble smile but in the light of the early morning it seemed more like a grimace and Hermione didn't think she had ever seen anything as sad.

There is always a choice when she stands on the edge of the Astronomy Tower. The sky stretches out above her and the stars twinkle uncertainly, as if they are destined to go out but are fighting the inevitable. _What's new?_ She preferred standing on the edge and having a choice to going back to the world where there were no choices.

She took a few steps forward- _is this how it ends?_ , teetered uncertainly- _is this what I want?_, and then hurried back, promising to herself that she will never return to the Astronomy Tower again.

She returned the next night.

Her back was aching- the result of shouldering the weight of too many heavy books on her slender spine- and her head was throbbing painfully but this time she stood on the edge of the tower, looking at the ground with a lot less uncertainty. Everything was going wrong, they were losing the war though none of them were ready to admit it yet even though every single one of them knew it, defeat hung upon them, (it was so _inevitable_, but she is still fighting) and she just sat silently- the stone face once again, (_god,_ how she hated it)- and watched as students received owls everyday informing them of a few more deaths (she has been counting) and they were forced to sit and bear it all because _damn it, _they could not fight.

The ground seemed far away, so very far away and she closed her eyes, trying not to imagine the sickening crunch her body would make when it hit the ground or the incredible pain that would probably shoot through her.

"You know Granger, you never struck me as that type of girl."

She spun around at hearing the voice, _that voice_ and that blinding flash of platinum blonde hair. Hermione saw his figure in the shadows, casually leaning against the wall, his pale face marred only by a long, jagged scar that ran from his temple to his cheek. She groaned slightly and took a step backwards.

"What do you want, Malfoy" she asked tiredly, "Come to make my life more miserable than it already is?"

She saw his eyes widen slightly and she almost laughed. She had changed, she had changed a lot. She was no longer that courageous, independent Gryffindor and she had actually been foolish enough to admit a weakness in front of a Slytherin.

"Oh please!" he spat, "Your life isn't worth living, let alone ruining. What exactly do you think you are trying to do?"

"You said it yourself, Malfoy. My life isn't worth living." She replied, desperately hoping that he would leave and let her get it over with. "Besides, don't you have a Death Eater father to run off to somewhere?"

"Get out" he snarled and she hurried away, not turning to look back once.

He was there the next time she returned to the Astronomy Tower.

"You are back again." He said, with absolutely no emotion in his voice. It was not a statement, it was a fact.

"Apparently."

"Are you trying to make this easier for me? Do you want to me to kill you?"

"If you wish."

He raised his wand to her throat, held it there for a second and then dropped it.

"Too cowardly aren't you, Malfoy?" she smirked, "Are you afraid that your father can't come to your rescue now?"

She saw his hand coming towards her face but by the time she realized what he was doing it was too late. He had put all his energy, all his pent-up rage in that slap and the sound reverberated in the night air like a gun-shot. She fell to the ground with a whimper and even though some part of her believed she deserved it, she was still furious and her cinnamon- brown eyes showed nothing but _fire_ as she slowly brought her hand up to clutch her bruised cheek.

"Get up." he commanded roughly and she whimpered again but obeyed him as she raised herself and tried not to stumble.

"Listen and listen well, Mudblood. My father received the Dementor's kiss three days ago. Does that make you happy, Granger? Do you feel satisfied now? Because that, you see, is the bloody problem with all you Gryffindors. While you are running about saving the world, do you even stop to think that maybe, just maybe, you are not the only one who is being affected by this war?"

His face was pale and gaunt, he looked wary now. Hermione sighed, it wasn't supposed to be like this, none of this was supposed to happen. She wasn't even supposed to talk to Malfoy now because it just didn't do for worst enemies to be standing on top of the Astronomy Tower chatting with each other.

She looked straight into his grey eyes and tried to say with as much detachment as she possibly could, "I am sorry, Malfoy. What more do you want me to say?"

"Don't say anything. Just get out of my sight."

She nodded slightly and left.

She didn't promise him anything but she was back again like clockwork the next night.

"Why do you keep returning, Mudblood?"

"In case you don't remember, you found me here first, Malfoy."

They stood next to each other, the night air stretching like a barrier between them; the wind was bitter and the air was chilly but oddly Hermione didn't mind. A part of her was questioning her motives on returning to the tower after the events of last night, and another part of her was asking herself why this felt so _right._

She was the one who had to break the silence first. "You're not the only one who lost someone in the war, you know."

"Oh really?" she could see that he was interested now. "Who did you lose?

She shook her head sadly, trying to ignore the lump that was forming in her throat. Draco nodded slightly and went back to surveying the night sky.

After a moment she said "Ron- I lost Ron."

He looked at her softly and said as tenderly as he could, even though he failed to mask the contempt in his voice. "Other people have lost more."

"But you don't _understand. _I loved him."

"Love him." Malfoy corrected almost automatically.

"What?"

"You love the Weasel."

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "You are right, of course."

He smiled a pleasant, _natural_ smile. If someone had told him that Hermione Granger would one day admit he was right he would have asked them if they needed a trip to St. Mungo's. Next to him, Hermione had apparently been having the same thoughts.

"Go to hell, Malfoy."

He smirked at her. "I think I am already there."

He looked straight into her cinnamon-brown eyes, and there was something unnerving about his gaze, it was as if he was looking straight into her soul and she was forced to look right back at him. He didn't like what he saw in her eyes, some sort of weak imitation of Gryffindor pride and bravery because that was all it was- _an imitation_ and nothing more.

"Granger? What could have possibly happened that changed you so much- you stopped _hoping_, you stopped believing blindly and isn't that basically all you Gryffindors do? It's foolish, yes and impractical, but Gryffindors are both and they are also reckless. "

She smiled slightly at this. _Same old Malfoy. _And she thought that the war might have changed him. "You talk as if I am the only one who has changed. I don't think that two weeks back Draco Malfoy would have stood on top of the Astronomy Tower talking with a Mudblood that he would probably be forced to kill in battle. We've all had to give up our innocence, Draco, it's for the good of the world.'

"And maybe one day they will realize what we have done for them."

"And maybe one day they won't." she said coldly.

He nodded uncomfortably and stared at the ground. "Must you be so skeptical? That would usually be a Slytherin trait."

She looked up at him and smiled slightly again. "Lately, it's become common to everyone. There's just _no room_ for optimists, anymore and besides, pessimists are usually right."

"Yes, but there is _always_ something good in everything. Isn't that what you Gryffindors believe?"

"My, my, how our roles have reversed."

"You aren't answering my question Granger."

"I thought it was rhetorical, Malfoy." She sighed at the look he flashed her. "Alright then- war, what is it good for?"

"Plenty of things as it happens, Granger" he replied bitterly, "Dead bodies for one, and imprisonment, cold nights and colder days…"

"You are proving my point." She said, cutting him short.

"I know."

They went back to staring at the sky, the stars were still above them, twinkling almost mockingly now. Hermione sighed. Oh well, atleast they had their chance to shine.

"Granger," he said softly to her, "Look at the night."

"What about it, Malfoy?"

"You would probably hate the night, it symbolizes darkness all over again and proves that light is only temporary. But without it, would we ever get to look at the stars? See, there is always some light, even in the darkest nights."

"Please don't do this" she begged, "_Please_"

"Do what?"

"Stop being so nice. I want to hate you, _I have_ to."

"You _have_ given up all hope, haven't you. "He asked softly.

"Yes, "she echoed with a sob that wracked her whole body, "All hope, all sense of feeling, all beauty. We are fighting a war, and what use is it winning if there is nothing left to live for?"

He leaned in towards her, he was coming closer, _too close._ Hermione froze, a part of her was screaming that this was Draco Malfoy and he was a known Death Eater and another part of her was telling that this was probably for the best. So she just closed her eyes, and decided that she would kiss him back and to hell what happened afterwards. For once, Hermione abandoned all logic and leant in as well. This was not the best kiss he had ever had, far from it indeed, her lips were cold and chapped and her voice was cruel but he _needed_ this and she needed this just as much as he did. This wasn't a goodbye, or even a thank you, this was just one last chance at redemption before they were both tarnished forever by a war that they had no say in. She was the one who broke it first and he didn't hesitate as he pushed her as far away from him as possible. He looked at her, his silvery-grey eyes unfathomable and full of unanswered questions.

"Is that something to live for?" he asked her, slightly breathlessly.

"Do you think we'll see each other again after the war?" she parried, a hint of sadness in her eyes, but sadness was _emotion, _and not just an imitation of it, she _felt_ and it was like laughter in a dead house, incongruous but healing. 

"I doubt it, Granger, we are just too different."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I'll see you on the battlefield then. Goodbye."  
_Give me your broken limbs and torn bodies. But don't give me your despair. _

"Granger?"

"Yes?"

" I don't love you."

" And I don't expect you to."

He was a Malfoy and she was a Granger, and the difference was like champagne and mud and nothing was ever going to change that.  
"Do not expect any mercy because of what happened tonight."

"I never did, Malfoy" she whispered softly, "I never did."

Perhaps there was an easier way to do this, but if there was then Hermione could not to do it. So instead she just spun on her heel and walked away, with something inside her tugging at heart- the _inexplicable_ feeling that she had seen yet another soul shatter- and despite whatever may happen later she unquestionably knew that _this man_ had saved _her_ soul from it's path to self-destruction.

For the first time since the war began Hermione cried and she cried like a little girl.

Fin


End file.
